The New Dragon Riders: 8th Class
by CrossingXSky
Summary: Alagaesia is finally seeing the return of the Dragon Riders. As four eggs hatch for four different species across the land, the 8th class of Dragon Riders of the new era prepare to take up the responsibility destiny set upon them. But not all welcome the return of the Riders, and as the 8th class struggles to prove itself worthy, the world will do everything it can to stop them.
1. Chapter 1: Anthea

**The New Dragon Riders**

**8th Class**

**Chapter 1: Anthea**

Thunder and lightning struck Palancar Valley like hammers falling on shields. Rain fell in sheets, blanketing the country side in sheer misery. Traversing the roads proved nearly impossible for even the most determined of travelers, especially when the wind whipped against the eyes of anyone foolish enough to be outside.

The storm flew in from the west, hitting the mountains of The Spine the harshest. A figure lay crouched among the bushes, draped in a cloak dappled in various shades of green. The figure held its head down, concealed by the cowl, and slowly sank into the bush.

_Huff, huff, huff,_

Trying her best to slow her breathing, the figure listened closely for the dreaded sound of followers. For a moment, perhaps there was no one. Perhaps. Then came the sound of roaring voices, yelling into the storm. Coming closer.

"Find him!" a voice roared. "He is surely here. I want him dragged back to me kicking and screaming. I want him to beg for his life until his throat bleeds. _Find him!_"

_Splat splat splat,_

The sound of boots slapping into mud drew near. Anxiety welled within the figure's stomach, but to panic now meant death. By remaining perfectly still, maybe . . .

"Blast it, _damn you thief!_"

A smile of satisfaction crept upon her face, quickly wiped away when she felt a flare of heat from under her cloak, accompanied by a flash of red and orange light. Chancing a peak, she lifted the edge of her cowl just enough for one eye to see what little it could out into the world. And what it saw made her gasp.

A torrent of flame rushed from the palm of a man's hand, bathing the forest in fire even as the rain bathed it in water. The man wore a rich purple robe that flowed in the wind behind him. As the flames ceased, her turned quickly, opened his palms, and released another torrent of flame. The symbol of a white dragon appeared on his back.

_An imperial magician!_

She recognized the symbol and had to work hard to keep from trembling. The man roared and cursed, setting fire to the surrounding forest. The men accompanying him, a dozen or so imperial soldiers, rushed around him with worried looks on their faces. Several appeared to speak to him, making big arm gestures and apparently voicing their disapproval, but the majority of their words were carried off by the wind long before they reached her ears.

Several snippets she caught were ". . . insane . . ."

". . . worth it . . ."

" . . . us all in your anger, stop this now!"

The magician roared into the wind, clenching his hands into fists, flames spewing from the gaps between his fingers. The guards kept heir distance but their urging continued.

_Am I worth this? _She thought to herself as the guards argued with the magician. _I don't know but if I don't move soon, I'll be burnt alive!_

Already the inferno created a wall of flame between her and the road. The only escape would be west, toward the Spine and away from her pursuers. But the hills and mountains were foreign to her, and far enough she knew there'd be Urgals, whose language she didn't know and who, as a general rule were best avoided.

_But I may have to chance it . . . if I can even escape with notice!_

She crouched close to the forest floor, hoping to crawl away or perhaps that the guards and magician would kill each other. The wet grass together with the biting wind made her miserable. Quiet as possible she turned and crawled on her stomach away from the flames.

"Hey!"

She froze. Some surely spotted her. The voice was close too. She looked up and gasped.

It wasn't obvious at first with the low visibility due to the black night and the harsh rain, but not far into the woods stood a castle on a hill surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall. Farther out from the castle a wrought iron gate stood erect, yet another barrier against intrusion. And rushing from this gate toward the flames was another figure, covered in a black cloak against the screaming wind.

It was a short figure but quick, whose voice somehow carried despite the wind and rain. The figure rushed forward until it stood only several yards away from the soldiers and magician, and even closer still to the figure hidden in the grass. But fortunately, this new figure stood focused on the others.

"Hey!" the figure called once more, voice incredibly loud and echoing, unmistakably the touch of magic. "What do you think you're doing?" The voice was rich and feminine, and carried the feel of authority behind it.

The imperial magician turned to her, flames in his fists extinguished. The soldiers quickly moved into formation, three on either side of the magician and six behind. The magician spoke, but his words were lost before they reached the hidden figure.

The woman replied, her voice still amplified by magic. "I don't care who you're looking for, you have no right to set fire to these woods. Do you have any idea how dangerously close you are to my property?"

When the magician replied that he hadn't, (assumedly) the woman replied with an answer that made the hidden figure shiver.

"Castle Stronghammer!" she roared. "And I am the court magician, personal guardian of the family of Stronghammer. We are more than capable of protecting ourselves."

_Castle Stronghammer, _the hidden figure cursed her stupidity. _If ever there was a way to further endanger my life, this is it! _She thought she'd rather take her chances with the imperial magician. Or the Urgals.

"Any thief," the figure continued, "fool enough to come near us will meet his end at the hands of our spells of protection. And if he be lucky enough to survive those, he will have the honor of dueling me personally. And there is _not,_" the figure stressed, "another magician in Palancar valley more powerful than I. Not a single one."

The imperial magician took the hint. The figure assumed dominance and after a silent exchange between the magicians, the imperial mage turned around, quickly followed by the soldiers.

With a few inaudible whispers the flames were extinguished. The court magician watched as the imperials walked away. When they were well out of sight the magician turned back toward the castle. Then,

"I know you're there."

The figure froze. "It's a testament to how weak that magician was if he couldn't sense your presence. And wasting energy making flames in the rain. I'm surprised he hasn't fainted." The figure remained frozen as the magician stepped closer, until she was right in front of her. "Stand."

The hidden figure, apparently not so hidden, stood slowly. She slid a hand, obscured by her cloak, around the hilt of a dagger sheathed at her waist.

"No." The court magician shook her head. "I wouldn't if I were you. You'll find no quicker road to death." The figure let her hand fall from her waist, limp in defeat. This magician clearly had her, no matter what she did. She may as well resign to her fate, she reasoned, and perhaps plan an escape later.

Surprisingly the magician turned back toward the castle, took a few steps, then turned back. "Well? Aren't you coming? It's miserable out here." She continued walking, while saying "We have a warm fire and plenty of food. But I suppose it's your choice."

The figure looked back toward the road. Nothing good awaited her there. Then she looked toward the luxurious castle. If this was a trap, it was largely unnecessary. She rushed to catch up to the magician, until they walked in sync.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, confused.

The magician turned toward the figure. "Because, they were calling out, we must find _him, _drag _him _back, and making such a fuss. That inept magician must have mistaken you for a man and the thief they are after. But you're clearly not."

The figure nodded. "Clearly, right."

The magician turned back toward the castle. "What is your name?"

The figure remained silent for a few seconds. "Anthea."

"Is that your real name?"

Anthea smiled. "Honestly, I don't know."

At the gate the magician paused, whispered a few words, then allowed them to continue. She did the same at the castle wall, in front of the imposing steel doors that stood fifteen feet tall. Anthea gulped. They seemed built to accommodate incredibly tall guests.

"_Ladrin!_"

She spoke with magic in her voice, the sound of which made Anthea shiver. The giant doors swung inward with ease, opening into a hallway just as tall. Orbs of dim orange light hung on the walls, illuminating the hall just enough for Anthea to notice the intricate rug on the floor and make out the edges of the paintings on the wall. Before she took a step, the magician motioned for her to stop.

"Wipe your feet."

"Huh?"

The magician pointed down. The first few feet of the hallway lay covered in a coarse mat. "Wipe your feet. This rug is of elvish make and a gift from the high Queen herself. I'll not have mud tracked on it. Wipe your feet."

Anthea nodded and quickly wiped the bottom and sides of her large boots on the mat until the magician was satisfied. They continued down the hallway until it opened into a large living room, just as tall and imposing.

More orbs hung on the walls, illuminating the room well in orange light. A set of fine maroon chairs and couches surrounded a thick stone fireplace, currently lit and providing perfect heat for the room. Another intricate rug covered the floor. Several halls branched off from the room, leading to parts unknown.

Sitting close to the fire sat a fair woman with red hair, holding in her arms a bundled baby. She wore a red shirt and a long violet skirt. She cooed softly and the baby laughed. The woman looked up and smiled. "Ismira, who have you brought in?"

The magician lowered her hood, revealing shoulder length red hair the same shade as the woman. She wore a gold circlet adorned with three rubies. "A traveler caught in the rain. She was being harassed by an imperial magician and several soldiers. Her name is Anthea"

"Ah," the woman nodded, then turned to Anthea with a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry. The imperial magicians can be quick to turn red when they don't get their way."

"Aye," came a voice from the closest hallway, a deep voice and unmistakably male. "They have trouble giving up control, now that the Riders have returned. Power hungry lot." A man with dark brown hair and a thick trim beard entered the room. He stood tall and muscled and wore a wool shirt and dark pants.

The man sat beside the woman and draped an arm around her shoulder. He eyed Anthea curiously. "How's a young lady like you find herself chased by soldiers? And a magician no less!"

Anthea could have cursed. She knew she'd have to answer this question eventually. "I'm incredibly unlucky," she explained. "It's a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time." _Or the wrong person, _she admitted silently to herself.

The woman nodded. "Yes but you're so young to have to suffer such bad luck. How old are you, exactly?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen!" The man shook his head. "As old as our daughter, and out getting attacked by magicians. Well sit, girl, and warm yourself up. You can stay here until the storm clears at least."

Anthea thanked them and sat by the fire, rubbing her hands together and holding them close to the flame. Her cowl fell back to reveal long brown hair tied back in a bun. Freckled dotted her face. As she sat with her back to the family, her left hand quickly jumped to her waist. Tied in a pouch just behind the dagger was her treasure. And she intended to keep it hidden as long as possible, until she made it home.

"Touch the heartstone."

Anthea looked up. "Hm?"

Ismira nodded toward a block of stone in front of the fireplace. It looked like an ordinary brick of stone, but for some reason had a round ruby bulging from the top, and two more slimmer rubies bulging from the sides. It looked as if it were one big jewel encased in stone. _Who would do something so peculiar?_

"Hearthstone?" she asked aloud.

Ismira nodded. "It's custom for all guests of our house to rub the heartstone, for luck."

Anthea nodded and rubbed the stone. The brick felt warm enough, but the ruby felt cool. She looked closely and saw thin veins of white running across the stone. _What the . . ._

"You must be hungry," the woman declared. "Some hot stew should warm you up."

As the night wore Anthea helped the family of Stronghammer prepare a late dinner of beef stew. The dining room lay on the other side of the wall that held the fireplace, with a wide window opening from one room to the other.

"So that a dragon can sit in one room and eat in the other," Ismira explained. The idea brought a smile to Anthea's face.

They sat around a table of polished white marble, eating and talking into the night. The woman, who Anthea learned was named Katrina, left first to put the baby to sleep. And the man, she learned, was the Earl Roran Stronghammer.

"It's an honor to have met you," Anthea said from across the table. "I've heard so many stories."

"Many of which have been exaggerated," he explained. "I wouldn't put much weight in them."

Anthea smiled, then turned to Ismira. "So you're the family magician, but you're also part of the family?"

"Of course," Ismira explained after she had a bit of stew. "Who would be more dedicated to protecting this family than someone in it?"

Roran nodded. "I was skeptical at first, but when it became abundantly clear Ismira was a powerful magician, I couldn't say no. Haven't seen a magician strong as her since my days as a soldier in the Varden. Though I don't know where she gets it. I never could do so much as lift a pebble," he chuckled.

Later into the night the Earl left for bed, leaving Anthea alone with Ismira. The young magician led her down a dim hallway ending at an oak door. "You can stay the night here," she explained. "There's a set of pajamas in the drawer if you'd like. You can also set your clothes outside and we can wash them in the morning."

Anthea thanked her and went into the room. Compared to the rest of the house, the room seemed relatively sparse and small. A simple bed in light blue sheets stood at the far wall, and a chest of drawers on the left. Within she found a set of dark blue pajamas she eagerly changed into, leaving her damp cloak and her other clothes outside. The exceptions were here knife, which she kept under her pillow, and her pouch, which she clutched to her heart with a free hand.

_Almost home, _she thought. _Home . . . home . . ._

It was a few hours from dawn that she heard a rattling somewhere in the room. Her eyes opened wide and she quickly drew her knife from its leather sheath. She sat up and looked around the room, tense and alert. The rattling ceased. At ease, she lay back down but kept her knife loose in its sheath, ready to be drawn.

The rattling began again. Anthea sat up, knife drawn, legs tucked in and ready to pounce if necessary. She looked around the room. Nothing. No one else, not even a closet for someone to hide. The rattling intensified, joined by a soft _squeak!_

Anthea listened close, and her eyes widened as she realized the sound came from beneath the bed. Kicking off against the wall she leaped across the room and landed on her feet in a crouch. She clutched the pouch to her chest, knife pointed at the bed.

"What sort of trickery is this?" she muttered to herself. The rattling stopped for a few seconds, then began again with renewed vigor! The squeaking intensified until together with the rattling it seemed as if nothing could be louder.

Deciding to chance it, Anthea fell flat on the floor and looked under the bed. What she saw only made her more confused. _The hearthstone? _She reached under the bed and retrieved the brick. It was in fact the stone she had rubbed by the fireplace. But why was it under her bed?

She dropped the stone as it shook once more, and backed away as the brick casing shattered on the ground, revealing the ruby red ovoid stone encased within. "Oh no," she cursed, "I've destroyed the Stronghammer heartstone." Cracks lined the stone, falling away one by one as it wobbled around, rolling and squeaking toward Anthea all the while. It bounced against her foot as the final bits of stone fell away.

In its place, to Anthea's shock, was a ruby red dragon, rocking back and forth on a piece of egg.

Anthea lost all color in her face. She felt like fainting and running away at the same time. "What is this?" she asked. Of all the things that could have happened, this she expected least.

"The Stronghammers had a dragon egg," she said to herself as she inched toward the door. It made sense. Their castle was well guarded, they were kin of the Riders, and Stronghammer was an Earl. This, she realized, must be one of the check points where dragon eggs were ferried to when carried around the kingdom and beyond.

And she broke it.

"I-Ismira," she called, inching toward the door. "Is-"

The door swung open. Ismira stood in her familiar cloak, shaking her head. "What's this? Anthea, did you try to steal our heartstone?"

"No!" Anthea insisted. "I didn't, I swear I didn't."

"Then what was it doing in your room?" she asked as she stepped closer to the dragon, studying it. "Did you know what it was? Are you working for someone?" She snapped toward Anthea. "Are you here to undermine our empire? Assassinate my father? Me?"

"No!" Anthea's heart pounded hard in her chest, tears gathering in her eyes. "I have no idea what's going on, I promise."

"I have no choice but to punish you," Ismira declared. "In the harshest way possible." She whispered, and Anthea's knife became hot as flame. She dropped it, and it fell clattering on the floor. The dragon turned toward the noise, curiously looking at the knife.

"Do you know that the touch of a newborn dragon is highly toxic?" Ismira asked, floating toward the bed and smiling devilishly at Anthea. "It's their primary defense against predators. Anyone unlucky enough to touch a baby dragon suffers the most excruciating pain possible. Then death, of course, but only after hours of terrible agony."

Anthea gulped. "Please. I didn't mean to-"

"You have no choice." Another mutter, and the door slammed shut. The dragon stalked closer to Anthea, squeaking in excitement. Anthea backed away toward a corner of the room, shaking. The dragon stepped closer until it stood only inches away. It licked the membrane from the egg off its skin, then turned to Anthea playfully.

"It's time to meet your destiny," Ismira declared.

The dragon pounced. Anthea threw her hands up to defend herself. She touched the dragon's hide. And her world was never the same again.


	2. Chapter 2: Lief

**Chapter 2: Lief**

Elven voices carried throughout the forest, light and rich with the sound of changing fate. It was midnight in the elven city of Ellesmera. The moonlit night glowed with the dim light of hundreds of floating werelights. Alfakyn from all across DuWeldenvarden and the empire came for the famed ceremony held once every two years. The ceremony to decide who among their children would join the order of the Dragon Riders.

The elves lay scattered around and in front of Tialdari Hall, singing of destiny, hope, and renewal. In front of the hall they stood apart, leaving an aisle laced on either side with flowers of all shapes and colors.

At the head of the aisle and in front of the hall stood the Queen of the Alfakyn. She was a tall woman with long raven black hair that fell to her waist. She wore a bright red sleeveless dress trimmed in gold, under a leather vest black as her hair. Her dress ended less than an inch above the forest floor. She wore a circlet of gold upon her brow, adorned in the center with a teardrop shaped diamond that shone with light from within itself. At her waist hung a green hilted sword in a green sheath, Tamerlein. The color perfectly matched that of her companion.

The dragon Firnen stood by her side, large and imposing, looking down at the elves from the top of his arched neck like a careful guardian. The dragon nodded his approval as he watched the elves gather and listened to them sing.

The Queen added her voice to the chorus, then lowered it to a whisper, as did the others. Soon there was absolute silence in the forest city. She looked around at her people then spoke. "My family, my people. Tonight is the night we once again honor our agreement with our closest friends, the dragons. Since time immemorial our races have grown together. We are part of each other, just as much as each of you is part of our race. Tonight, we take our most prized possessions, our children, and give them freely to our friends the dragons, so that one of them may be chosen to carry on the noble title of Dragon Rider."

The elves cheered and the singing continued anew as down the aisle came sixteen elf children. They were few, for the elves had few children and considered them valuable above all else as the most powerful symbol of love. The children, all aged at least twenty, marched down the aisle, their bodies concealed with robes of silver. Even so, a dim white light glowed from beneath their hoods, the natural light of their young bodies.

One by one the children stepped toward Tialdari Hall, toward Queen Arya, and knelt before her. "Arya Drottning," the spoke in perfect unison.

She went to each of them and lightly kissed them on their heads. "Children," she whispered. "Are you prepared for what fate has in store for you?"

As one, "Yes, Arya Drottning."

"If chosen, will you carry the title of Dragon Rider proudly? Will you accept this gift from our friends, and honor us with your actions?"

"Yes, Arya Drottning."

"And if not chosen, as all but one of you will be, will you graciously accept your fate and take pride that one of our race will carry on as a rider, even if it is not you?"

"Yes, Arya Drottning."

Satisfied, Ary looked to the great dragon Firnen, and between them a silent exchange took place. He nodded his approval and Arya went to the first of the children, and elf girl with bright green eyes. The Queen nodded, and the elf child stood. Silently, she stepped into the hall, currently empty of all elves.

They waited. And waited. Finally, after an hour, the girl stepped out of the hall, hood pulled back to reveal her sandy hair, and shook her head. "I stood before the egg," she declared, "touched it with my mind, and spoke words of friendship. Yet it did not respond to me in any way. I am not destined to become a dragon rider today."

As she walked the steps down from the hall, she looked up at Firnen with sad green eyes. The dragon touched his snout to her forehead. "I am honored to have had the opportunity," she whispered. And in her mind, the dragon spoke.

_And we are honored to have received you, Mora-finiarel._

The child bowed, and took her place at the end of the line as the elves murmured words of condolences and praise.

In this fashion, one by one the elf children went into the hall, waited, and returned as none of them yet were chosen. If somehow the egg chose none of them, then it would rotate to another race, and they would receive another.

The eighth child in the queue, a dark haired elf by the name of Lief, stood and entered the hall. He closed his eyes as the door closed behind him, and he was left alone. On the far side of the hall, past the twelve chairs on either side of him, stood a pedestal grown from the ground itself. Upon the pedestal sat an onyx colored pillow, and upon the pillow, a silver smooth dragon egg.

Lief pulled back his hood and presented himself before the egg. He fell on one knee in deference and reached out with his mind.

"Oh powerful dragon, upon whom my destiny hinges, I am honored today to kneel before you." He felt the numb essence of the dragon's mind within the egg and gulped, as if suddenly everything were real. He stood, and placed a hand on the egg.

"Twice before I've come before an egg such as yourself," he spoke as he touched the egg. "And twice before, I've been rejected. No," he shook his head, "simply not chosen. But unfortunately, this will be my last year."

The longer he spoke to the egg, the more his tone of deference slipped, and he began to speak to it as if it were a friend, one he may never see again. "In two years, when the next ceremony takes place, I'll be thirty. Still hopelessly young by any race, especially my own, but no longer a child. And no longer eligible."

He patted the egg gently, with his hand and mind. "And I think I am . . . I am fine with that." At first it was a lie, but he said it to himself over and over until he felt it in his body. "What will be, will be, and I can not change it." He smiled down at the egg. His hour was almost over, he knew. And still no response. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what had happened. He quickly blinked them away, cleared his throat, and stood up straight.

"I accept my fate with dignity," he told the egg. "I must. I can't change destiny. But I want you to know, I would have been lucky to have you as my eternal friend." He smiled, now used to the idea of not being chosen. "We would have had so much fun. Flying across the skies, your beautiful scales shimmering in the sunlight. I would protect you with my life and together, we would have been unstoppable."

He let his hand drop to his side and looked back toward the entrance of the hall. "Whoever is chosen, I promise you this. He will be the luckiest alfakyn in all of DuWeldenvarden."

As Lief turned to exit, the egg rolled off the pillow, onto the earthen floor, and followed him as he walked away, cracking and squeaking all the while.

"I stood before the egg," he declared, trying his best to keep the remorse sadness out of his voice. "I've touched it with my mind, and spoke words of . . ." He stopped, eyes running over the crowd. Everyone stared in his direction, but not at him. Their eyes focused lower and to the right of him, where the silver egg stood nearly entirely broken apart. The final fragments fell away, revealing the tiny dragon beneath.

Lief looked down at the small silver creature. It brought its long neck up, pointed at him, and sniffed him curiously. Apparently pleased, the dragon chirped at Lief, who only stood, dumbstruck.

_Whose dragon is this? _He thought, confused. _I don't understand. I was the only one in the room, wasn't I? Then who did it hatch for?_

He turned to his queen and her dragon for guidance, but they only stared at him, smiling. He opened his mouth to request an explanation. It was the great emerald dragon Firnen who spoke instead, touching his mind gently.

_ You were so prepared, _he asked in his deep, rich voice, _and yet when all you ever hoped for finally occurs, little Lief, you are unable to comprehend it. Did you have so little faith in yourself that you never thought this might happen?_

Lief quickly realized that Firnen kept their conversation private, hidden from all but himself and Arya, whose smile never faded and yet said nothing. He looked to Firnen and let his head fall. _My apologies, Firnen-elda, _he communicated. _I will do better in the future._

At this, Arya said _Do better? You have only just begun. You have nothing to apologize for. This is a day of joy for you. Let nothing, not even your own self-image, take that away from you. Now, _she gestured toward the silver dragon, who chirped eagerly to get Lief's attention, _touch your newfound companion with your palm, and take your place among those who seek to keep the peace in our world. Take you place among the Riders._

Nodding, Lief turned around and looked down at the dragon. _His _dragon, he realized. The creature hopped on its tiny feet, chirping Lief to do what he must so they could start their lives together. And so he fell to one knee before the dragon and placed his hand on its side.

A burst of energy flew from the dragon and into Lief, overwhelming him. Somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of cheering, and the heat of a dragon's fire.


	3. Chapter 3: Thrawl

**Chapter 3: Thrawl**

The song of Nar Tulkhqa echoed throughout the mountains of the Spine, carrying so that even those on the outskirts of the mountain range heard the song with perfect clarity. The music came from the voices of several races, from horns and lutes and many instruments, as if it came from all of Alagaesia itself.

The song came from a band of varied races. Elves and dwarves, humans and Urgals, playing and singing for all to hear. They stood in the center of a flattened field of rocky terrain, stretching for over a mile in any direction. At its end a tall wall rose several yards high, then leveled out for a yard, rose another few feet, then leveled off, repeating in this fashion creating several tiers of benches that at its highest point stood half a mile high.

Thus stood the Firesword Stadium, so named after the greatest friend of the Ugralgra, and home of the famed Urgal Games.

Every two years the games took place, with events from all races taking place. There was javelin throwing, racing, fencing, wrestling, and all manner of games similar. Each race elected champions to participate in the games. The winners of each game received gold bands adorned with gems that could be worn around wrist, arm, or neck, depending on the size of the winner. Ruby bands depicted third prize, emerald second, and sapphire first. To receive a band at all, when the participants numbered in the dozens and came from all races, was considered an immense honor.

Though it was still early afternoon, the sun had moved just beyond the horizon of the mountains, bathing the stadium in a premature shade. The seats were packed, the audience made up of mostly Urgals, but also littered with swaths of dwarves, elves, and humans. It was customary for the song of Nar Tulkhqa, a song that famously heated the blood of those who heard it, to play just before the final event of the games.

And as Thrawl listened to the song of his ancestors, he felt his blood boil indeed. The young Urgal stood at the highest row in the stadium looking not toward the band, but outward into the forested mountains of the Spine, where the final even would soon take place.

Thrawl was not a Kull. He stood just under six feet tall and fifteen years old. His horns grew eight inches from his head, far from large, even for his age. The horns of some of his friends had already begun to round. _But they are not standing where I am, _he thought with a smile. _They are only spectators today. And I am a champion._

The youngest Urgal to ever compete in the games, Thrawl had already made history. But to actually win not one, but two bands of honor in his first games was monumental. He wore them both on his right arm, one of emerald for the short sprint, and one of sapphire for wrestling. That one, he was most proud of.

Any other victor would be satisfied. _But I did not win these bands by remaining satisfied, _he thought happily to himself. Thrawl focused on the final event, the Dragon Rush.

The event was a race in three legs that began at the north end of the stadium and ran along through the mountains in a wide arc before ending at the south end. The first runner carried a heavy ruby red orb, then stopped at the base of a mountain after four miles. There the second runner took the orb, along with their own emerald green, and ran uphill through a mountain pass. At the end of the second leg the runner gave both the emerald and ruby orb to the final runner, who had to run downhill to the south end of the stadium carrying both orbs in addition to a sapphire orb strapped to his back.

If at any point a runner allowed an orb to touch the ground, they were immediately disqualified.

The Dragon's Rush was always the final event. Only victors who had one two or more bands could participate as captains. This year, only two had. And both of them Urgal. One was Thrawl and the other was Gorn, a Kull. Thrawl turned and glanced toward the audience. Gorn sat in the front row down below, arms crossed in satisfaction. His horns had already rounded one and a half times, the mark of a full grown Urgal. Which he was.

Thrawl turned around and looked down to the audience, contemplating the problem of Gorn and the Dragon's Rush. Impressive though his performance thus far was, he was still a child and thus Gorn would either see him as an easy opponent, or work all the harder to avoid the shame of losing to him, if he was smart.

Thrawl ran his hand over the bands on his arm, as if to assure himself they were still there and still meant something.

As one of two captains for the Dragon's Rush, Thrawl and Gorn would choose the two other legs of the race from any of the participants of the games. The choices they made were crucial, as they would decide the race more than any individual participant's stamina. _The right combination, _Thrawl thought to himself. _That's what I need._

There were plenty of impressive victors to choose from. Thorav the dwarf proved most precise and powerful at the javelin throw, but it would not help Thrawl in the rush. There was also Letara the elf, who proved the most excellent fencer in the games, outclassing even her elven opponents with ease. Impressive, but not what Thrawl was looking for.

His eyes settled on a slender elf with long silvery hair whose eyes were focused on the floor instead of the band playing in the stadium. Her name was Raela, and she had earlier won an emerald band for swimming. But during the cross country sprint through the mountains she had suffered a humiliating defeat. In a very un-elflike fashion she fell during the sprint and many competitors overtook her. Had she not fallen, Thrawl knew, she would have another band and he'd be facing her in the Rush.

Her skin still had the glow of a young elf, though it had begun to fade. Whether it was the arrogance of youth or just dumb luck that she fell, he didn't know. But he knew she'd do anything for another shot.

As the song of his ancestors died away Thrawl knew it was time to make his choice public. He walked down through the audience as the players finished the last notes of the story song and left. Gorn stood up stretched his arms out, letting loose a powerful roar that reverberated throughout the stadium. The Kull then smiled and stepped onto the edge of the arena before leaping out and onto the field, sending up a cloud of dust. Gorn then walked toward the center, where the game maker, an Urgal shaman named Taqura, stood waiting. Thrawl made his way to the center more carefully, choosing to leap over the edge like Gorn but in a less boastful manner. When finally Thrawl made it to the center, Taqura spoke a word in the ancient language and spread his arms wide, his voice amplified for all to hear.

"Witness!" Taqura declared in the common tongue of humans, "today the final event of our glorious games. Witness the might of our final two champions and know that of all competitors here, only these Ugralgra have made it to the end. Witness," he gestured to Gorn on his right, "the powerful Kull Gorn, who makes the ground tremble in his wake, who won two bands of emerald and sapphire. And witness Thrawl," he gestured to his left, "the youngest competitor, Ugralgra or otherwise, to win a band in the games, let alone two. Today they make history in the Dragon's rush! Gorn!" Taqura turned to the Kull. "Who do you choose to run with you?"

"Vozra," Gorn declared, his voice amplified. "And Raiga."

The crowd burst into cheers. Vozra and Raiga were each Kull who had won bands of their own in strength based competition. Thrawl frowned. It looked like Gorn wasn't taking any chances.

"Thrawl!" Taqura turned to the young Urgal. "Who do you choose to run with you?"

Thrawl looked up at the faces throughout the audience. Many he knew believed he would lose either way. He opened his mouth and spoke "Mar." His best friend, who had won a band in the games two years ago but not this year. He was a Kull, and a fast one too. Mar looked down from the second row in the audience and nodded in acknowledgment. They had decided well before now that Mar would run the first leg of the race.

"And," Thrawl added with a smile, "Raela."

This gave the audience pause. Raela herself looked up, stunned. For a moment there was silence. Then the crowd burst into varied reactions, ranging from shock and outrage to wild cheers of approval. Thrawl made eye contact with Raela and nodded. After a split second she returned the nod, her look of shock replaced by one of determination.

It wasn't so much that Thrawl chose someone other than Urgal to run with him, it was that he chose someone who hadn't won a single band that rocked the crowd.

"Competitors will take their places," Taqura declared over the roar of the crowd, "and the race shall begin in an hour!"

Raela and Mar raced down to the arena floor. Thrawl ran to meet them close to the edge of the stadium. Mar towered high above them both, a grin on his face. "You shook the hornets nest Thrawl," he chortled. "They will want to see you back up your decision." He glanced at Raela.

The elf glanced back at Mar, then Thrawl. "Yes," she added, staring straight at him. "It is not . . . a decision I would have made in your position," she said with a lilting voice. "Urgal, Thrawl. Why choose me?"

"You," he said to Raela, "will run the final leg. The downhill leg is underestimated. Many Ugralgra have dropped orbs due to carelessness, something I know you will not be."

Raela nodded in understanding. He then turned to Mar. "And you my friend," he said placing a hand on Mar's arm as high as he could reach, "will run the second leg. You have the most stamina. I will try to get to you quickly."

Mar frowned, confused. "You do not want glory?" It was customary for the captain of the team to run the final leg and thus make it to the finish line at the stadium, to greet the cheering crowd. Thrawl shook his head. "I will have glory in our victory. Now, let's run a good race!"

Within the hour Thrawl stood underneath an arched entryway to the north side of the stadium. Several yards to his right stood the Kull Vozra. They each held in their arms a large ruby red orb. When Taqura gave the signal they'd each run through a short tunnel, out of the stadium, and onto the trail. Vozra smirked at him, a light chuckle escaping his throat. Thrawl turned away, focused only on his goal.

_Vozra will make it first, _he told himself. _That is fact. _He couldn't hope to match the speed of a Kull. But for a normal Urgal, he was fast. And Mar he knew was faster than Raiga. And Gorn could not match the grace of an elf.

_I have the best chance I could give myself, _he repeated in his mind. He envisioned victory, the cheering crowd. The glory. It made his heart race, his blood grow hot.

Taqura stood high above on the edge of the audience, hands held high. "On my word," he roared in an amplified voice. The crowd tensed. Thrawl and Vozra's knees bent in anticipation.

"_Run!_"

They took off like wild deer, storming into the tunnels. Thrawl held tight to the orb as if it were his lifeline. Within five seconds he ran past the tunnel and onto the mountain trail. For a second he thought he'd beaten Vozra past the entrance. Then he saw the Kull turn a corner up ahead and nearly lost his nerve.

_Vozra will make it first, _he repeated to himself. _But _I _will win._ As he passed the first mile mark and saw how far ahead Vozra was, he became enraged. The trail took one more bend to the left, then straight to the base of the mountain. The tall trees of the Spine flew past him in a blur as he pushed himself to run faster.

Mar and Raiga stood at the base of the mountain, each holding an emerald orb and ready to take on the ruby. Thrawl felt himself kicking against the hard forest floor with each step, leaping more than running toward Mar. Still Vozra ran far ahead.

_I should be happy I ran this fast, _he told himself. _Mar and Raela can do the rest. This is enough. _But it didn't feel like enough. It felt like his speed was a burden for the others to carry.

The light from the sun shone of his armbands. He glanced at them. One for the short sprint, one for wrestling. But, he realized with a smile, he hadn't done too bad at the javelin throw.

The exact game Mar had won a band for two years ago.

Making a quick decision Thrawl kicked off the ground and landed with a _thud, _digging his feet into the ground and with a powerful swing of his arm hurled the orb to Mar. Vozra glanced back at Thrawl, confused, and nearly dropped his own orb. Thrawl made eye contact with Mar, who quickly nodded and leaped into the air.

Thrawl held his breath, each second a year as Mar and the orb flew at each other. As if it were destined, the ruby orb fit perfectly into Mar's giant hand. The Kull turned in the air and landed hard on the ground. Without a second glance the Kull rushed toward the mountain just as Vozra handed his orb to Raiga.

Thrawl fell on his back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _Now, _he thought with a powerful sense of satisfaction, _Now this is enough._

He lay there on the ground, the fate of the race out of his hands. He didn't envy Gorn one bit, still waiting for his orbs just beyond the mountain. Tense. Anxious. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like his decision was the smartest.

That in mind, he slowly stood up and made his way back to the arena.

Soon he stood in the center of the arena once more, side by side with Vozra. They faced the south end, eagerly waiting to see who would appear first through the two arched tunnels of the south end.

_I've done all I can, _he thought. _I've done all I can._

Soon the rhythmic sound of footsteps rang through the tunnels. But it wasn't the mighty _Thud-Thud-Thud! _Of a Kull. Thrawl smiled. It was the _pat-pat-pat _of the swift footed elf.

Sure enough, Raela shot through the tunnel first, quick as lightning. She held the ruby orb in her right hand, emerald in her left, and a sapphire orb strapped to her back. The crowd burst into uncontrollable cheering and applause as she made it past the line drawn in the arena, lifting the orbs high into the air before letting herself fall on one knee with exhaustion.

Panting, she looked up at Thrawl and smiled. "It is done."

Seconds later Gorn burst past the tunnel. When he saw Raela already there, he let out a mournful roar and fell on both knees. Taqura stood high above on the edge of the stands. "Raela has made it first!" He declared. "Victory to Thrawl, Mar, and Raela, champions of the 7th Dragon Rush!"

Thus the crowd began to chant. _"Thrawl, Mar, Raela! Thrawl, Mar, Raela! Thrawl, Mar, Raela!"_

Thrawl took one of Raela's hands in his own and held it high. The elf quickly stood together they basked in the crowd's adulation.

Taqura froze as if just noticing something for the first time. He closed his eyes, listening to an unheard voice. Then he leaped down from the stands and onto the arena, throwing his arms up.

"An announcement!" he declared. "The Herndall have seen fit to bestow the ultimate honor upon our captain champion, Thrawl!"

The crowd fell silent. Thrawl looked at Taqura, confused. _Ultimate honor?_

Taqura pointed toward the south arch through which Raela had crossed. "They our Herndall have closely observed your actions and your choices,young Thrawl, and they have chosen you!"

From the south arch stepped three of the Urgal council women, representative of the leaders of their race. They were short and old, with long pointed horns and long robes of grey. In their hands they carried a large silk pillow. And resting on that pillow was an ovoid stone of bright bronze.

"Come champion!" The lead Dam bellowed in the language of the Urgals. "Come and see if the egg has chosen you as we have. If it be not, then let your victory today be glory enough to satisfy you. But if it be so, then further glory awaits, and you will join the pride of our race!"

Thrawl hadn't expected this. The Herndall usually held a ceremony every two years, just after the games, for all the Urgal children to gather and touch the egg. But on occasion they saw fit to give first try to the young Urgals who earned glory in the games.

He had never thought about becoming a rider, or even considered the possibility. And as Thrawl stepped forward and placed a hand on the egg, he didn't know exactly what he hoped for. He planned on winning glory, and he had.

And he planned on bringing that glory home, he realized. Home to his mother and father. Home to his village. Home to someone special.

He realized just then he had plans all along and a dragon did not fit into them. And as the egg trembled at his touch, he felt the vibration go through his entire body, as if affecting his destiny forever. And it had.

He stepped back, but it was done. A crack appeared in the egg. Then another. It all happened so fast Thrawl could barely process it. Mere moments ago he'd been the happiest in his life. And now.

Now he wasn't so sure.


	4. Chapter 4: Ekksvar

**Chapter 4: Ekksvar**

The long winding tunnels beneath the Beor Mountains echoed with the last few _thuds _of marching feet as the dwarves rallied beneath Farthen Dur. Flameless lanterns hung around the perimeter of the great crater, bathing everything in a soft orange glow.

Dwarves milled about, buzzing with activity like a veritable bee hive in the soft ever-present twilight. They carried flags and pennants displaying the emblems of their respective clans, some as long as a quarter mile. They erected tents displaying the same and set up tables and stages close as they could to their great mountain city, where they feasted and celebrated this, their newest holiday. For as large as it was, they could not all fit within the great mountain city of Tronjheim.

Tronjheim stood tall in the center of Farthen Dur, a shining testament to the dwarves craftsmanship and perseverance. The mountain city rose over a mile high and held within countless rooms and tunnels of every shape, size, and purpose. At its center lay a polished circular room perhaps a thousand feet across that stretched to the ceiling, layered in levels lined with arches leading to all corners of the mountain. As it rose the mountain narrowed until it was capped at its highest point by Isidar Mithrim, the star sapphire and the pride of the dwarven race.

Presently each level of the center room was packed with dwarves looking down below at the main event. There stood the dwarf king Orik, beard brushed and curled, and wearing the finest gold plated armor, out of which grew a thick violet cape that reached the floor. The ancient war hammer Volund hung on his waist. The other clan chiefs stood in a semicircle around their king, wearing their finest ceremonial robes and armor, except for Gannel, clan chief of Durgrimst Quan, who stood in front of them all.

And laying before Gannel, stood an open casket of polished black marble as tall as Gannel's knees. A dark blue satin pillow filled the casket, and laying on the pillow was a violet dragon egg. The egg was by far among the most precious stones to ever enter Tronjheim, in league with even the Isidar Mithrim hanging high above. It represented the dwarves new place in the world, as defenders of the peace.

Representing the other half of that peace were the dwarf children, who stood in eight rows waiting for their chance to come before the dragon egg. The center room of Tronjheim branched off into four enormous tunnels, splitting the mountain into quarters. Two long lines of children waited at the entrance of each tunnel, for so long that they did not end at the entrance of the city mountain but rather continued on into the fields of Farthen Dur for a while longer.

The event was known as Az Jurgen-Knurlan Belgond; The dragon-dwarf promise. Gannel wore a thick golden hooded robe and held in his hands an ornately carved stone staff almost twice as tall as he was. He lifted the staff, then brought it down with a powerful _Thud!_

The whole of Tronjheim instantly quieted, an impressive feat for a city so large. Gannel threw back his hood and cleared his throat before addressing the city, the mountain, and all of dwarven kind. He spoke eloquently, telling of the great power hidden within dragons, and how it is a sign of how blessed the dwarves were to have such a gift brought upon them.

Orik had to stifle a chuckle. Gannel spoke so convincingly, it was hard to imagine that fourteen years earlier he had given a rather different opinion of the dragons and their "gift".

"Oath breaking heretic king!"

Nado, chief of clan Knurlcarathn, banged his fists against the table as the clanmeet progressed. Or rather, did not progress, seeing as all they'd accomplished was yelling and insults. Orik stood at the head of the large council table in the cavern deep below Tronjheim, fourteen years earlier.

Shortly after Eragon offered his gift to dwarf-kind, to allow them into the covenant with the dragons, Orik knew it was his duty to call a clanmeet to discuss the issue. And if it end with his dethronement, so be it. But he would do all he could to hold on to the crown if he could help it.

"I agree with chief Nado," Gannel added, "though in not so much the same terms. How could you, Orik?" asked the chief of Quan. "How could you spit on our years of tradition and solidarity? The knurlan have never needed dragons, never depended on another race. Nay, we are a strong people, and you insult your race by taking such an offer, you lower our status amongst the world, and you-"

"For Guntera's adoration, _will you silence yourself?_"

The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to Iorunn. She sat with her arms crossed, a look of defiance upon her face. "Is Orik not your king? Has he not earned your trust through a majority vote, at least? You may not like what he has done and frankly, I could do with an explanation myself. So give our king the chance to speak. We owe him nothing if not that."

Orik looked down at Iorunn and gave her a short nod. She returned it, but her arms remained cross and the look of defiance did not disappear. If he had any hope of retaining the loyalty of the clans, he'd have to do it with his next words.

Orik cleared his throat, stood tall, and addressed the clan chiefs. "The question you must ask yourselves, my fellow knurlan and grimstborith, is this; did I act rashly?"

He continued quickly, giving no one a chance to interrupt. "We stand here today at the end of a long and bitter war, one that cost the lives of many of our warriors including my predecessor and uncle, Hrothgar. A war that took a costly toll on the knurla. And why is this?"

He had intended the question to be rhetorical but Nado quickly answered, "Because of those blasted dragon riders! Because of Galbatorix and his dragon we lived in fear and you make a pact-"

"Exactly!" Orik declared, pointing at Nado. "Because of those blasted dragon riders!" He slammed his palm on the table in agreement. "Because those blasted dragon riders, whose strength exceeds our strongest warriors and whose power surpasses even our mightiest spellcasters. I agree with chief Nado, we've suffered more than our share because of those blasted dragon riders!"

Nado froze, astonished. "Well I . . .yes, exactly."

"And how did we get out of this war?" Orik asked, gesturing to the clan chiefs. "How exactly did we succeed in trouncing Galbatorix? With the blood of many dwarves, to be sure, but also with the help of my foster brother and another one of those blasted dragon riders, Eragon Shadeslayer!"

"I love Eragon, and Guntera strike me down if I lie, but we could not have won without him. How could Galbatorix's end have come from a dwarf? There was never the slightest chance of that!" Orik declared. "Aye, we're lucky enough that Eragon was a dwarf in law if not in blood, and that won the Ingetum and all of our kind glory enough. But oh," Orik stood, "would it not have been grand if one of our own had slain that treacherous king? Would it not have been grand if the world looked upon its savior, the hero of Alagaesia, and seen a dwarf? What prestige our race might have earned! Our halls and homes would flood with a pride that could not be mined, no matter how deep we dig, nor smithed, no matter how hard we try."

"I want the whole of Alagaesia, to look up at us, to see that we knurlan still hold sway over the world, that nevermore will we be at the mercy of those who ride dragons! So that one day, if a new Galbatorix appears, he will have the likes of us to deal with, and nevermore will any think to destroy us when we have the might of dragons at our side!"

"I have leveled the playing field," Orik bellowed. "I have given us even footing with the rest of the world, with the humans, elves, and yes even the urgals, so that none may look down upon us. And I ask you," he roared, slamming his palms onto the table, "my fellow grimstborith, _did I act rashly?_"

After a vote and long series of discussions that lasted well into the night and the following day the clan chiefs decided that indeed King Orik had acted rashly, and thank Guntera he did.

Two months after that meeting and an egg exchange with the Urgals, the first Az Jurgen Knurlan Belgond took place, and a dragon egg of crystal blue hatched for the first dwarf rider, a ten year old named Merkin. He and his dragon, Lenora, were now legends throughout the halls.

Presently Gannel finished his speech, a retelling of the Rider War and a modest account of the dwarves new bond with the dragons. "Let the Jurgen Knurlan Belgond begin!" he roared!

And so it began, the month long festival of the choosing. All throughout Tronjheim and outside it within Farthen Dur, dwarves drank and feasted, played games of chance and listened to songs of glory and action! During the festival one dwarf child at a time would come up to the casket and hold the egg, under scrutinous observation, for an hour. If the egg did not respond in any way during the hour, the dwarf child would leave to join the festivities and the next child took his place.

The first child stepped forward, a lad by the name of Ekksvar. He wore tan trousers tied with a thick woolen rope and a grey shirt. On his head he wore a leather cap, pulled down to obscure his eyes. The child held his hand up and stepped forward. It would be a long process, Orik knew, but well worth it.

Slowly and dramatically, Gannel lifted the rich purple dragon egg from the casket and placed it into the boy's hands. "Good luck to you," Gannel said as the boy stood, waiting. Most eyes were excited and focused but not overly enthusiastic. The ceremony became very tedious, very quickly, that once the egg finally did hatch it caught everyone by surprise. In ceremonies past, it was always during the second or third week, rarely the first, that the egg hatched.

Orik resigned himself to a long wait. He would stay for the first few hours, then head outside and listen to the bards, perhaps play a game of chance if he could. As long as several of the clan chiefs remained to watch and the guards outside the archways remained alert, it was well. He chuckled at the idea, but even a King had to enjoy himself during times of celebration.

So when the egg began to shake, it caught Orik by surprise. He was first to notice, quickly followed by Gannel, and soon everyone in the city. "The egg is shaking!" voices called out, echoing and repeating throughout Tronjheim. "The egg! The egg is shaking! Praise Helzvog, I don't believe it!"

Orik rubbed his eyes. How long had he been standing there? Not twenty minutes, and no more than five with the egg in the hands of the young boy. But sure enough, the egg shook in his grasp, and none too gently at the.

"By the great gods!" he declared. "Hatching straight off within the first hour! I don't believe this."

Gannel nodded, stepping away from the boy to give the egg room. "Indeed. It is a sign. Of a strong bond, to be sure. And of a strong dragon. We may have our greatest dragon rider yet!"

Cheers rang out as word spread to the outer reaches of Farthen Dur. The young dwarf smiled but did nothing else as bit by bit the egg cracked and chips of it fell away. Soon it rolled out of the boy's grasp and onto the floor, shedding the final bits of its shell. And the chiefs beheld the dragon hatchling within as it shook, fell onto its back, and scratched at its head. It opened its mouth and chirped happily.

"Great gods boy, you must be proud!" Gannel declared as he stepped forward and patted the dwarf child roughly on the back as he reached down to touch the dragon. With that action the boy's cap fell away, and a long braid of chestnut brown hair fell forward.

The dwarf lad, now revealed to be a lass, stumbled forward and looked around at a gasping crowd. She blinked, then stood tall and unflinching. For the longest moment the room was silent.

Orik asked the obvious question. "Lass, why did you hide your gender in this way?" There were plenty of dwarf girls waiting in the lines, and although none had yet been chosen as riders, it was not for a lack of opportunity.

The girl bowed her head to Orik and replied. "My apologies, King Orik. I hid mine gender so that none would know me until it was unavoidable. My name is Deidra. And I am a member of Az Sweldn rak Ranhuin."


	5. Chapter 5: Deidra

**Chapter 5: Deidra**

A clanmeet had been called immediately. It was a loud and boisterous affair, with much banging of fists and roaring for attention. Orik recalled how the meetings never used to be so clamorous before the dwarves involved themselves with the Dragon Riders. However, he believed it was a fair, if inconvenient, trade.

The clan chiefs stood at their usual seats in the council room. Deidra sat away from the table in one of the surrounding benches. A dozen guards stood posted around her, while across the council room on the other side of the table, the violet dragon sat in a cage of crossed wires, leaving no room for escape.

The dragon didn't seem agitated with the turn of events. It only sat in its cage, surrounded by its own dozen guards, staring across the room at Deidra. The dragon chirped every once in a while but otherwise remained quiet, as if it were just patient enough but eager to move on.

Thordris of Durgrimst Nagra spoke first. "This has never happened before," he said as he stroked his beard.

"Which part?" Hadfala of Ebardac asked. "The female rider, the deception, or the fact that she is of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin?"

Thordis shrugged. "All of it." He turned to Orik. "What are we to do about this?"

Nado answered for him. "I'll tell you what we should do! Execute the girl for her treachery and bestow the dragon upon another youngling, one more deserving."

"And how exactly would we decide that?" Iorunn asked, matching Nado's volume as she stared across the table. "We depend on the dragon to choose its own partner. Well, it has chosen. And as it happens, we do not like its decision but it is what it is. Who are we to say it is incorrect?"

"Grimstborith!" Gannel said, adding his voice to the discussion. "We are the rulers of our race, and this is not allowed. If the dragon cannot abide by our rules, then what are we doing in this pact in the first place? They are supposed to integrate with us, not disregard our sanctions as they will."

Orik slammed the butt of his hammer on the table. "Chief Gannel," he spoke, "you of all the chiefs should know, as you have tutored and supported many of our dwarf riders, that dragons are subject to no rules other than their own." He leaned back in his chair and twirled a section of his beard around his pointer finger. "Aye, but this does complicate things, that I will give you."

Fourteen years earlier when the dwarves joined the pact with the dragons, a mutual rule was put into place regarding the clan Az Sweldn rak Anhuin. The clan, whose past was marred by death and destruction at the hands of the Forsworn, vehemently hated all dragon riders, without exception.

Years earlier their leader Vermund had sent assassins to kill Eragon Shadeslayer, now leader of the riders. Vermund had since been murdered in the night by one of his clan in order to establish peace with the other chiefs. But the clan as a whole had demanded to be left out of the pact with the dragons, calling it an abomination. And the chiefs agreed to let no member attend the ceremony in Farthen Dur.

"What would Korgan say, if he found out about this?" Orik asked his fellow chiefs. "Aye, what would he do this girl?"

They turned to look at Deidra. Korgan was the current chief of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin, and though he was friendly enough, he shared his clans hatred of dragons and remained far away from the ceremony, as did all of his clan.

"He'd have her killed," Gannel answered. "And her dragon too, for it is hers I now realize. Whether we like it or not."

"What do we do then?" Iorunn asked. "Send her," she gestured to the girl, "back to her clan to be executed? For we can not allow a member of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin to become a dragon rider. The entire clan would not stand for it."

"Nor can we give her dragon away to another ride, for that is a perversion of the sacred Belgond not done since the likes of Galbatorix!"

"You there!" Orik pointed to Deidra with his hammer. "Come, approach the table. We must question you and discover how we came to this dilemma."

Deidra took in a deep breath as the guards escorted her to the table. She was frightened. Not for herself, for she knew full well what she was getting into, but for her dragon, who had done no wrong in its short life.

"Yes my king?" she asked. Her voice was soft, unlike many dwarfs, but full of conviction. Like a smooth stone, Orik realized. Water would slide over it, but it would be hard to break.

"How is it that you came to be in Farthen Dur for the Belgond when Korgan would never have allowed it?"

Deidra looked to her dragon and smiled. "Mine chief cannot keep attention on every one of us at once, nor can his soldiers. We are not prisoners. We are free to go anywhere we wish. He wouldn't believe any of us would _want _to come for the Belgond."

"Then why did you?" Nado asked, leaning forward. "You all hate the riders. Why come to Farthen Dur when nothing good could come of it. Are you not of the same mind as your clan? Do you love dragons and riders, unlike your ancestors?"

Deidra shook her head. "Nay, I share the sentiment of mine people. We've suffered much at the hands of the Riders, and though much time has passed since, including the killing of one rider by another, we can not forget our suffering. Not if a thousand years come and pass."

"But then you haven't answered _why!_" Nado demanded. "Why have you come, when your hate should hold you back. Did you intend to kill the dragon? Kill its rider? Was that your miss-"

"For gods sakes man, let her speak!" Iorunn interrupted. "You can not demand answers and then giver her no time to reply. Speak then child, and tell us how this happened."

Deidra nodded toward the dragon. "For her."

The violet dragon chirped in recognition and tapped the end of the cage with its nose. "I don't understand," Nado said.

Orik nodded. "Neither do I. Explain yourself, young Deidra, that we might know how this came to be."

"I have an ambition burning within me," she began. "To aspire to greatness. To affect the destinies of many, to leave an imprint on the world. What can I aspire to then, in mine current state? To someday become chief of a disgraced clan? To aspire to queendom when no one would have one of us on the throne? No, I have a desire and I will not have it go unquenched."

"In my room one night, three days before the Belgond," she continued, "A werecat appeared on my windowsill. It looked at me with scrutinous eyes and then spoke directly into my mind. '_Go to the Az Jurgen-Knurlan Belgond' _it said to me. _'If you can make it to the first place in line, the dragon will hatch for you, and you will start on your path to make history, as you so desire'._"

"Always I have waited for such an opportunity," she said, looking Orik in the eyes. "And when one came, I would not go on for the rest of my life wondering what could have been. I would not see a dragon hatch for another and wonder if I could have that glory. I would not sit in my hall, hoping to one day see all of the mountains of mine people, when all I could have seen all of Alagaesia and beyond. I rushed to Farthen Dur, I took my place in line, and lo, the dragon hatched for me."

The room was silent for a moment. "That is," Thordris began, "an interesting tale."

"And an elaborate one it is," Gannel added. "But is it true? Werecats and destiny?"

"And why should it not be?" Deidra asked, stepping closer to the table. The guards loosened their weapons in their sheaths but made no other move. "when it was the werecats who provided necessary information, whatever it was, that helped destroy Galbatorix all those years ago? When it was werecats who were our allies in the war?"

The dragon chirped, as if to accentuate her point. Orik looked from the dragon to the determined girl destined to ride it. He shook his head. "But whether or not your story is true, and I am inclined to believe it is, what is to be done about you? Korgan would start a clan war to keep you from becoming a rider."

"Even Korgan can't stop me now," she declared defiantly. "He could not stop the dragon from hatching. Like it or not, it has happened."

"Aye, it has," Orik admitted, "but even though it would be a short war, I would not see my people fight against each other if it can be avoided." He looked to the clan chiefs, pursing his lips in thought. "Therefore, if my fellow grimstborith agree, I will declare you, Deidra, clanless, separating you forever from Az Sweldn rak Anhuin and out of Korgan's juridiction."

After several minutes of arguing, the fellow chiefs agreed it was for the best. Deidra's eyes widened in terror. "No!" she shrieked. "You can't! It's a fate worse than death to be without a clan."

"Would you rather us send you to Korgan to be executed?" Gannel asked. "Aye, and your dragon too? There is no other way, unless you wish to be adopted into another clan. But I can already guess your answer to that."

Deidra stepped back from the table and shook her head. "No. I'll not be adopted into another clan like a criminal seeking asylum. I have done no wrong. I . . . I'd rather be clanless."

It was the worst dishonor a dwarf could ever obtain, but it was, she realized, the only way she and the dragon would get out of the mountains alive. The price of being a rider was more than she had prepared to pay, but pay it she must.

Upon seeing Deidra's resignment, Orik said "But you are not looking at the possibilities, young Deidra. You have been given a great opportunity. Regardless of any dishonor." Deidra looked up as he continued. "You begin at a low point, but yet you will have the chance to ascend higher than any dwarf not a rider. Even I myself will never have that opportunity. Dishonor? Go forth, little Knurlan, and make your own honor. To a service to your race, make us proud!"

At this she smiled and knelt before him. "Yes mine king. I will do my best."

"Good. Now," he leaned back, relaxed, "it is customary after the hatching that the new rider go before her ruler, and then on to Ellesmera where the training will begin. I am satisfied you have done the first, and am eager to get you going on toward the next. You will be escorted as far as the edge of Du Weldenvarden, and there the elves will take you the rest of the way."

Orik motioned for the cage to be brought forward. The dragon chirped excitedly as it was brought closer to Deidra. The guards quickly undid the latch at the top. Orik smiled. "Good luck, young Diedra."

The dragon climbed out of the cage and rushed at Deidra, quick as an arrow. She touched the dragon upon the left flank, and then everything became white.

_ "If you can make it to the first place in line, the dragon will hatch for you, and you will start on your path to make history, as you so desire"_


	6. Chapter 6: Titus and Titania

**Chapter 6: Titus and Titania**

"You're not still mad at me, are you?"

The _clip-clop _of the horses' hooves clattered against the stone road at a leisurely pace as the pair of travelers made their way out of Yazuac. Ismira chuckled. "Are you? Admit it, it was funny."

Anthea rolled her eyes. "It was _not _funny. I was terrified! I thought you or the dragon was going to kill me!"

As if hearing that it was mentioned the dragon perked its head up from Anthea's lap, where it lay on a soft maroon pillow. Ismira had made a bed for it in the saddlebags of Anthea's horse, but the dragon preferred to stay close to its companion.

Anthea had passed out thinking she'd died. Certainly she felt the excruciating pain Ismira told her she'd feel, but her own mind exaggerated most of it. When she came to on the bedroom floor she found the dragon nipping playfully at her ear. Ismira had sat on the foot of the bed, smiling down at her.

"Congratulations, Anthea," she announced. "You are now a Dragon Rider."

At this Anthea sat up and looked at her left hand. A shining silver oval now appeared on her palm. She looked at it incredulously, then slid back against the wall. The dragon followed her, chirping at her excitedly.

"I'm a . . . what?"

It took her a moment to put all the pieces together. But when the Earl Stronghammer and his wife came into the room and congratulated her as well, she finally realized what had happened.

"But I don't understand," she had said the following day as the family prepared a lavish meal in the dining room. "Why me?"

Ismira insisted on giving Anthea a short cloak of ruby red (the same shade as her dragon) that fastened at the shoulder with a gold clasp and ended between her waist and knees. Ismira wore a similar cloak of purple. The entire family, including the infant baby boy, dressed extravagantly as they prepared the food.

"Why you?" the Earl asked as he brought down a carving knife to chop a long thick steak. "Who knows why you? Why a poor farm boy, as happened over sixteen years ago to my cousin? The ways of dragons are mysterious, Anthea. But," he continued as he brought down the knife again and handed the chops to Katrina, "they always know best."

Katrina began to cook the pieces over a fire in the fireplace. Anthea looked at Ismira, who spoke softly over a tray of vegetables, causing them to fall into perfectly sliced pieces. "But wouldn't you be a better choice?" she asked. "You're already a powerful magician, and you're just as young as me. Why wouldn't a dragon choose you?"

Ismira smiled and shook her head. "A dragon may choose me yet someday. We'll be a checkpoint for the ferrying of eggs for years to come. But for now, I'm content here. And if I became a rider, I'd have to leave my family."

"What about your family?" Katrina asked Anthea as she cooked the meat. "They'll be excited to hear you've been chosen. Won't they?"

All eyes found their way to Anthea as she remained silent, sitting on the couch. The dragon climbed into her lap and worked its head up to Anthea's neck, nipping at it lightly and chirping. In the dragon's face, she saw a sense of curiosity and unconditional love. The dragon knew absolutely nothing about her, and yet it adored her, hardly standing to be away from her for a second.

"I don't have any family I'm close to," she explained, looking down and running a hand across the dragon's flank. They seemed to understand, as no one brought Anthea's family up again.

That day Ismira contacted the palace in Illirea through an enchanted mirror. The Earl Stronghammer spoke for a moment with the High Queen. Anthea couldn't see, as it was a private conversation held in another room. But she caught the words "proud," and "continued service."

When the Earl returned, he placed a hand on Anthea's shoulder. "Today is an important day for you, young one. You'll go to the palace in Illirea and present yourself to Queen Nasuada, and from there you'll be taken to Ellesmera. Where your training will begin."

For a second Anthea felt like protesting. Everything was happening so fast, she didn't have time to react to it evenly. She didn't know how to feel about being uprooted from her life, taken somewhere far away and trained to be something she never agreed to be, by people she'd only ever heard of in stories.

But then she realized that this was actually a very good thing, and smiled to herself.

_No one would dare do . . . that . . . no, not to a rider. I'll be safe forever. And, _she thought as she clutched the pouch strapped to her belt, _I'll be able to go home. With my dragon, who could stop me?_

"Of course, lord Stronghammer."

He shook his head. "I'll not have you calling me that. You're a Rider now, and we are on as close to even terms as we'll get. Call me Roran."

Anthea nodded. "Yes . . .Roran."

Roran smiled. "Good. Now, I have a pair of horses ready in the stables. After we eat, Ismira will escort you to the palace. It'll be a long ride but well worth it. I should think it'll be your last time riding a horse."

Anthea looked down at the dragon she held in her arms. It was so tiny she could hardly believe she'd one day be riding it. But she nodded. And the idea of being escorted by Ismira made her smile. She would be safe with the Earl's daughter, and she liked her, even if she pulled a nasty trick on her.

And so it was that Ismira and Anthea left that day after the meal. Ismira rode a magnificent white stallion called Snowfire, while Anthea rode a black horse called Garrow. Before they took off Roran and Katrina said their farewells and bid them a safe journey.

"I am sad you could not stay with us longer," Katrina had said as Ismira helped Anthea onto her horse. "But I am glad we could see the first step of your journey."

The nameless dragon curled around Anthea's neck, its head resting on her collarbone for the first few days of the journey. They swept through Therinsford within the first day and a half and were past Yazuac within the week.

They rode at a quick pace but not so quick that they could not make conversation. Ismira told Anthea all about her life at home. At a young age Ismira showed an aptitude for magic that neither of her parents experienced beforehand, nor her grandparents.

"Dad hated the idea of me learning how to wield a sword or any other weapon," she admitted. "Which was understandable. I was very young. He's let up since and I've been taught a little swordplay and archery. But I was never great, and I much prefer magic."

As they rode, Anthea felt a growing sense of curiosity as if from another mind. It brushed against her consciousness on the first day of her journey, but quickly grew more powerful until by the end of the second day it was impossible to ignore. She felt the mind send her pictures of her surroundings and a never-ending slew of wordless questions.

"Horses," she found herself saying aloud. "We ride them often to get from place to place. Not me, I usually walk."

"That was Yazuac back there. We live in villages just like it all over the world."

"Thousands. And they don't all look like me. Some men don't have beards."

The dragon perked up at each of her answers and responded with many more questions. Within the first week it doubled in size and could no longer ride around her neck, instead electing to ride in her lap.

As they neared Daret days later Ismira slowed their pace to a gentle trot. By now the dragon almost came up to Anthea's knees and would often glide beside them for several miles along the way. The dragon slowed down as well and turned back to meet the slower horses.

"I have a surprise for you in Daret," Ismira announced. Anthea smiled.

"Oh really? What is that?"

Ismira grinned. "I've received world that the other eggs have hatched. It's imperative that we get you to Queen Nasuada as soon as possible and then to Ellesmera so the 8th class can begin its instruction."

"8th class?" Anthea asked Ismira.

Ismira nodded. "Yes. The 8th class of dragon riders of the new age." This made Anthea silent. She hadn't fully thought about what being a dragon rider entailed. She would be part of a group older than she could comprehend, though she knew it was very old. The dragon jumped into her lap and chirped at her excitedly.

_At least I won't have to go through it alone,_ she thought.

"Like I said," Ismira continued, trying to get Anthea's attention, "we need to get you there fast. So I have a surprise for you."

They were about a mile away from Daret when Anthea saw it. A white streak blurred through the sky. Ismira halted the horses and pointed up. The blur vanished for a split second as it crossed over the moon, then appeared again as it contrasted against the dark blue sky.

Anthea leaned forward. "What . . . what is that?"

The blur whirled around and circled high above. Two wide wings extended from the blur's sides, and she realized it was a dragon. She could not grasp the size of the creature until it landed several yards before them and she had to look up. She gasped.

The dragon's body stood almost as big as a house, with its neck extending just as tall. In berth it was as wide as an elephant, with legs as thick as tree trunks. Its scales glowed in the twilight, perfectly the same shade as the moon. It folded in its wings and looked down at the horses with a noble intelligence that humbled Anthea greatly. Beneath its gaze she felt an inch tall and almost considered bowing.

Ismira pulled her horse forward. "Greetings, Titania Moonwing."

What happened next rocked Anthea's world.

_Greetings, Ismira Katrinasdaughter. It is good to see you again._

The dragon spoke with the voice of a High Queen, rich and feminine but backed by an natural authority. Its voice projected into the minds of all present in a way Anthea had never experienced. Not even her dragon spoke to her but rather used pictures and emotions.

The dragon turned to Anthea and lowered its head to her level. Surprisingly the horse Garrow didn't react with surprise but remained calm while Anthea panicked. _Well met, younglings. I am Titania Moonwing, and we will be your guide to Illirea._

Anthea did her best to keep her jaw from dropping. Her dragon crawled up Garrow's head and looked at the elder dragon with a sense of wonder and awe. By younglings, Titania had referred to the pair of them. Anthea realized then that she was only one of a set of two, equals.

"We?" she asked.

Titania's head rose. She nodded to her back where she wore a saddle at the juncture where her neck met her body. A figure leaped from the saddle and landed beside his dragon. He wore a long sleeved shirt blue as the night sky, and belted pants of dark brown. On his head below his gold brown hair he wore a circlet of white, centered with a crystal clear diamond. Belted at his waist he wore a sword whose sheath matched Titania's scales, decorated with a glyph Anthea could not decipher.

He looked at her with friendly green eyes and gave a short bow. "Well met, younglings. I am Titus the Swift, former captain of the 6th class and Rider in full. We will ensure you arrive at Illirea safely and quickly."

His pointed ears and unnatural grace told Anthea he was an elf. _I'm meeting an elf, _she thought excitedly.

"I-its a pleasure," she said quickly. Ismira brought Snowfire to Garrow's side and place a hand on Anthea's shoulder.

"This is where we part," she explained.

Anthea blinked. "Oh . . ." Despite the trick she'd played Anthea had grown attached to Ismira and was sad to leave her. "When will I see you again?"

Ismira smiled. "Anytime you'd like. Here," she reached into Snowfire's saddlebags and produced a flat ovoid mirror wrapped in violet silk. "It's an enchanted mirror," she explained as she handed it to Anthea. "At some point in your studies you'll learn how to use it. Until then, only I can contact you. Keep it safe, Anthea."

With Ismira's help Anthea transferred the contents of Garrow's saddlebags to Titania's own. Titus helped Anthea onto Titania's back and secured the extra leg straps around her feet. Her dragon curled comfortably in her lap as Titus took his seat in front of Anthea.

"Are you excited to ride a dragon for the first time?" Titus asked.

Anthea looked at the ground, then at Ismira waving from Snowfire's back. She nodded. "Y-yes."

Titus chuckled. "I imagine this will be the only time you'll ride any dragon other than your own. It is a life changing experience, I assure you."

With that Titania turned and ran toward the city of Daret. She spread her wings and in one powerful flap she launched into the air. Titus was right.

The experience was life changing. Anthea gasped as the city of Daret and the plains thereafter rushed past in a blur of light and wind. She tightened her grasp around Titus' waist so she could more securely look over Titania's side at the ground below.

As the mighty dragon's wings came down she saw the hills and valleys of Alagaesia like she never had before. _I could get used to this, _she thought. A similar but wordless thought came from the dragon in her lap.

As they rode Anthea asked few questions, but Titus answered them all. "Every two years, four dragon eggs circulate throughout Alagaesia," he explained. "Once they hatch, a class of four students is taken to Ellesmera, to receive training for two years in Tuatha du Orothrim, or Tempering the Fool's Wisdom."

"During this time a class captain is chosen," he continued. "The class captain speaks for the class when addressing elders and also leads the class on their group missions when the class graduates to apprenticeship after two years. When the apprenticeships ends, the class graduates to Riders in full and receive their swords."

"Why are you the former class captain?" Anthea asked.

"When a class graduates into full riderdom, the class no longer has a captain, as all are considered equals," he explained. "As such, we are free to take missions as we please and roam the land at our leisure. In fact," he looked down at Titania and ran a hand over the scales on her neck, "Titania and I have just come from the graduation ceremony."

Titania huffed in agreement. _Now that my partner and I have graduated, we are subject to no more lessons or timetables other than those we choose. It is a good feeling._

"Will I have to wait two years then," Anthea asked, "before I can go anywhere I'd like and be truly free?"

Titus looked down at Titania. A silent exchange took place between them before Titus said, "Four years. Two for Tuatha du Orothrim, and two for apprenticeship. But our training was necessary. And we were not so restrained we felt as prisoners. It was an education with structure."

_Do not mistake our happiness to mean that you will be unhappy for the next four years, _Titania added. _Our happiest moments were in training under our masters. We are excited to make new happy moments wherever we please. Look forward then, young one, to the happiness in the forests, and then further on the plains and mountains of the country of dragons._

For the rest of the day and a half they rode to Illirea they remained mostly silent. Anthea enjoyed the serene view of the countryside as it blurred past, as well as the calmness of the skies. Her dragon enjoyed cuddling into her lap. Titus and Titania remained blissfully silent. Meanwhile, Anthea exchanged evermore information with her dragon, including facts about the world and her life in it thus far.

On the night of the second day Anthea found herself roused from her sleep by an excited mental contact from her dragon. She saw the city of Illirea in her mind, through her dragon's eyes, before she saw it with her own.

"Huh?" She sat up, now fully awake. Titania was no longer in the sky but on the ground, walking through a crowd gathered on either side of her at a leisurely place. Buildings of various heights and styles stood all around them. Many citizens wore nightclothes. Some looked half asleep but excited.

In the crowd a tall man with a yellow beard lifted his daughter onto his shoulders so she could see. The crowd murmured their excitement. _Always whispering, _Anthea thought. _Always. _

As they neared the castle a boy in his pajamas, no older than ten, stepped out from the crowd and threw his hands up. "Hail Riders!" he called as Titania neared. "Bask in the glow of our adoration. For soon, I will join you in Ellesmera as a rider in training. I know it!"

Titania slowed down as she passed the boy. Titus smiled at him. "May it be so, young one. May it be so."

They walked to the gated citadel that Anthea knew housed the High Queen and her court. The gates opened, allowing the dragon to pass into the courtyard over a cobblestone path. Imperial magicians lines up along either side of the path. Once in place they stood like statues, showing neither insult nor deference as Titus and Titania passed. Among their rank Anthea recognized the magician from before, the one who had tried to kill her when she . . .

"We're here."

Anthea looked up. They were now in the throne room. A long violet carpet extended from the entrance of the citadel all the way up a stone dias and ending at base of a high backed throne covered in the same material. On it sat a lady with dark skin and long brown hair braided around her head under a crown of gold decorated with all manner of gems the likes of which Anthea had never seen.

The High Queen smiled down with a look of maternal kindness, seemingly undeserved. For the first time in a long time Anthea looked down at her clothes and was thankful for the gift of Ismira's red cloak to cover her worn traveler's clothes.

To the left of the queen stood a hand maiden in a short silk dress of royal purple, and to the right, a cushion on a pedestal upon which sat a large fat and furry black cat. The cat opened its eyes slightly, observed the visitors for a moment, then closed its eyes and seemed to go back to sleep.

Titus leaped down from Titania's back, then help Anthea down. The Queen sat up, arms resting on her throne, and addressed them. "Welcome to Illirea, young dragon and rider. I am Nasuada." She spoke with a voice slightly deep but all the more beautiful and regal for it. As Anthea held her dragon in her hands and observed the Queen's gaze, she couldn't help but feel the Queen saw someone else standing in her place.

Anthea fell on one knee, clutching her dragon close. It squeaked in protest but otherwise remained calm. "Y-your majesty," she mumbled.

Titus let out a soft chuckle, and gave a short standing bow. "Your majesty will forgive us. This young one has yet to learn the etiquette of a Rider."

Nasuada smiled. "That's quite alright, Titus Starsword. I am pleased to hear of your graduation earlier this month. I hope to see more of the famed captain of the 6th class and Titania Moonwing. Do you have a missive from your leader?"

Titus approached the dias, eyed at all times sternly by the imperial magicians, of which there were no less than twenty in the room. As he passed Anthea Titus tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to stand, all without breaking stride. A thin scroll slid from his sleeve, sealed with a sapphire blue wax imprint. When he reached the base of the dias the hand maiden took it from him, then gave it to the Queen, who slid it into her own sleeve without looking at it.

"What is your name, child?"

Anthea stood quickly and cleared her throat. "Anthea," she replied.

Nasuada nodded. "And what is your dragon's name?"

She looked at the dragon, who looked back at her. It knew it was being addressed but didn't know how to reply. "Oh. Um," Anthea struggled to explain. "He doesn't have a name. Yet."

"He?" Nasuada raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Or she," Anthea corrected. "I don't know the gender yet."

The Queen chuckled. "Of course, of course. Now, down to business. You have been chosen by this dragon, a great honor, and you will join the ranks of the Riders, who serve to keep the peace between countries including my own. This, you cannot do, if you are subject to me. And that is something I hereby relieve you of. Anthea, you are no longer just a citizen of Alagaesia. As a Rider, your duty will be to all races and all countries. You must show no bias, not even toward me."

Nasuada smiled. "You will show proper respect, of course. And you shall not go about breaking my laws left-and-right. But you have a higher authority to answer to now. Do you understand?"

Anthea nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

Satisfied, Nasuada motioned for something to be brought forward. One of the magicians rused in front of Anthea and presented her with a small rectangular box of obsidian outlined in thin gold. It was a simple design but all the more beautiful because of it. At its front a jewel of yellow diamond lay embedded in the box, but there seemed to be no lock or key. Anthea took the box in her hands slowly. It felt empty.

"That is a chest made from the stone and embedded with a jewel from Alagaesia," Nasuada explained. "May you always carry a part of your country with you. And within it may you place your most sacred possessions and know that they will be safe, for none but you may open it."

Anthea looked at the Queen and nodded in humble acceptance. "Your majesty honors me."

"Yes," Nasuada agreed. "I do. But may you also honor me, young Anthea, with your actions as a Rider. As you walk among all races, travel throughout all countries, and do your duty, may you never forget that you are a human. We may not have the strength of an Urgal, the swiftness of an Elf, or the craftsmanship of a dwarf, but we are a resilient and populous race. May you carry our spirit with you, wherever you go."

Titus helped Anthea back onto Titania as they left the citadel. She held her dragon in her hands, dazed, as if she were in a dream. As Titania left the castle, Anthea surged forward, knocking her head on Titus's back and nearly falling off. Only the leg straps on the saddle kept her in place.

"Are you alright?" Titus asked, turning back to see her. Anthea remained quiet for a moment, then rubbed her head.

"I'm fine," she declared. "I just don't know what that was." She felt as if something very heavy had been thrust into her head and now sat somewhere in the farthest corners of her mind. Something thick and condensed, but quiet as well.

Titus frowned. "I'll have to check you before we arrive in Ellesmera."

With that they let Illirea, flying into the air and vanishing against the moonlit sky.

Nasuada sat smiling some moments after the riders left and her magicians returned to their duties. Even her hand maiden was gone. "So?" a voice asked. "How did it feel?"

Nasuada smiled, but her eyes narrowed. "You know exactly how it felt."

"Indeed I do."

A figure stepped out from behind the throne, hidden before to all but now visible at the Queen's side. She was a young girl who looked at least sixteen, yet she spoke with the voice of an older woman. Her short hair ended in a perfect line at her collarbone. Upon her brow was a silvery mark, and her eyes were of a bright violet. She wore a simple cloak of empty black.

"But you handled it better than I thought you might. I am proud of you."

Nasuada nodded. "Because I saw it coming." She leaned her head on her right handed and gritted her teeth in frustration. "Her dragon. It's the exact same shade of red as his." The girl nodded.

"You miss him."

To this Nasuada did not reply. After a moment she asked, "Is there anything else?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. That girl, Anthea." Elva narrowed her eyes, as if focusing on an image she couldn't quite see. "I don't know how, or why, but it is her. She's going to cause a lot of pain. Potentially, at least. And to a lot of people. With her here I could get a better idea of it, but now that she's gone I fear I won't have that chance again."

Nasuada nodded. "It's fine. As long as you're here, we need not fear a surprise attack." She smiled at the girl. "Your powers have grown strong since I first saw you. It is I who should be proud of you."

Elva nodded. "You are. I can feel that too." Silence. Then, "The closer we come to whatever danger that girl will cause, the easier it will be for me to discern exactly what kind of danger that is. The fact that I can sense it now is not only a testament to how powerful I've become, but of how massive the danger will actually be."

Nasuada looked to the entrance of the throne room and nodded. "May the gods help us all."


	7. Chapter 7: Zora

**Chapter 7: Zora**

Thrawl stood outside the low walled hut of the Herndall. The smell of burning Juniper and Cedar wafted from the entrance, hitting him before he set foot within. Sitting patiently by his side was the little bronze dragon, moving its tail back and forth against the ground but otherwise remaining quiet. Thrawl looked down at the creature somberly. It looked back at him, and a touch if curiosity brushed against his mind, like a hesitant brush.

"Do not be scared, little dragon," he spoke. "The dams within would die a thousand deaths before they let anyone harm you." The dragon tilted its head to the side in confusion. Thrawl impressed the feeling of safety into the dragon's mind. _You are safe, _he insisted.

The dragon seemed to understand. And as Thrawl walked through the entrance, the little dragon trotted alongside him like a well trained hound.

Set within the low hut was a walled fire pit that gave the room a dim and ominous appearance. Twelve dams stood around the pit in robes of patterned knots. They were incredibly old by Urgal standards. Many were missing teeth and several were blind. But their collective wisdom was stronger than any force Thrawl had known. After all, they knew the dragon would hatch for him before he had even thought of it.

Thrawl opened his mouth to speak. Before he did, a blind dam held a hand up to stall him. She held in her right hand a short rod that ended in a cup full of water. The dam moved the cup over the fire pit and let it spill over. A fresh wave of scent emanated from the pit. The dam put the rod aside and motioned for Thrawl to come closer.

"Little Urgalgra," she said without facing him, as she had no need to without the eyes to see him. "Today you honor the Herndall in a way so few of us ever could. When you are young and your horns are still growing, you will achieve more glory than even the oldest strongest of our Nar."

"It is customary," another dam continued, "for those all races to meet with their leaders before going to land of elves. For nevermore will you live exclusively in the company of Urgralgra. You will count elves, humans, and even dwarves among your peers. But you are not to forget who you are, or where you come from. When you feel lost in your quests as a rider of dragons, you have only to look at your reflection, to see the horns upon your head, and know that you are one of us. Your blood runs hotter than any other race."

Before Thrawl could speak, another dam, one with long white hair that touched the floor, continued. "But your mind, little horned one, runs cool." She eyed him like a prized horse and nodded her approval. "We have observed you, Thrawl, long before the games took place."

His eyes widened in shock. "You have?"

She nodded. "We have. When you won your place in the preliminary games, as so few young wons do, we thought you may have something in you few of us have."

The preliminary games were a series of events held throughout the many Urgal villages. They took place before the games themselves, as a means for Urgals to decide which of their own to send to the main games. Thrawl remembered them well. Only the fiercest and often most arrogant of the young ones participated, for losing so early in life, many believed, was a sign of more arrogance and failure to come.

"And we were right," she continued. "When you chose Raela as your teammate in the Dragon Rush, we knew you were best suited to go before the egg. Such thinking is good for a rider to have."

Thrawl shrugged. "I just wanted to win."

The Herndall nodded at this. "And so you have."

Thrawl looked down at the little dragon and all it represented. Then he turned to the Herndall, gathered the courage in his chest needed to speak, then said "And what will this mean for my family?"

The Herndall looked at Thrawl curiously. "Surely it will mean only good. They will have a Rider for a son. There is no greater glory."

"And my friends," Thrawl continued. He thought of Mar, his only Kull friend, and his companions in his village along the west side of the Spine, by the coast. "What of them?"

"The same!" The Herndall repeated. "They will be honored one of their own has become a rider!"

"And what of a mate." At this the Herndall became silent, looking at each other as if they just realized something. Thrawl continued, "I entered the games to win glory. More glory than any my age has ever known. I did this so I could return home and choose a life mate. How long must I wait now until that can happen?"

The Herndall frowned, a sour look upon many of their faces. It quickly passed when the long haired dam spoke up. "Little one, we understand your position. You are now at the highest place an Urgralgra can be at your age. You may choose any mate you like. This is what you wanted?"

Thrawl nodded. "Yes."

"And," she continued, "you must have someone in mind. Is this not also true?"

Again Thrawl nodded. "Yes."

The dam nodded, placing her hands atop her staff as if she had just made sense of something. "And this dam you have chosen, she would not take you unless you won the games? Unless you won much glory that she could be proud to stand by you?"

He hesitated. Then, "yes."

"Why choose a mate so prideful," the dam said, now leaning on her staff, "she would not take you unless you, a little one, could best his race and others in the games? To be sure, you have done well. But who could have demanded so much from you?"

Thrawl looked up, exposing his chin. "Because she is most beautiful woman I have ever met."

At this, many nodded their understanding. Still, "Even the most beautiful woman could not demand so much of you. Yet, you insist on her?"

"Yes."

"And nothing we say could change your mind?"

"No."

The dam nodded and stood up straight. "Then, little Thrawl, you are in a good position. You will go on to the land of elves, complete your training as a Rider, then return with glory not even the games could hope to match. If this dam is important to you, you must give to her all you can. None of us can claim to have won the games an be a Rider. You will be the first."

He looked down at his right arm, where he now wore three bands. One adorned with an emerald, another with a sapphire, and a third with all three jewels to symbolize his victory in the Dragon's Rush.

_Have I not won glory enough, _he asked himself. Surely he could go on to marry . . .her. An image appeared in his mind. The dragon perked up at the image, sensing Thrawl's emotions. _Must I have control of my own life taken from me?_

Then he thought back to the rush. How, at the final moment, he knew he should have been satisfied handing the orb to Mar. But instead he threw it, because he was not content with mediocrity. _No, _he realized. _I have not won glory enough. Not for her._

"I will do this," Thrawl agreed. "I will become a Rider. I will win all the glory I can and bestow it upon her."

"Excellent," the eldest dam nodded. "Then little Thrawl, we send you on your way. Your guide to Ellesmera waits for you now outside the hut. Go and win the glory you seek. But first, this."

The dam gestured toward a wooden box in the corner of the room. It was long and thin, and Thrawl had hardly noticed it was there. "Open it."

He did as he was told, taking the box and opening the lid at the top. A long wooden staff lay within, covered in the carvings of the Urgal language. Special glyphs for luck, peace, and strength adorned it. At its end the staff ended in a rounded top. A thin hole went through it, through which metal rings penetrated the staff.

"It is," one of the dams explained, "the staff of Kokora, the last of us to die. She wanted her staff to see the world as she had not. Take it with you, Thrawl, and do honor to her memory."

Thrawl trembled in awe. The staffs of the Herndall were the most sacred objects of his people. To be given one . . . it had never happened before.

"I am . . ." He closed the box and looked to the Herndall. "Forever honored."

"Yes," the old dam nodded. "As it should be. Now go, Thrawl. Meet your guide and go on to destiny."

Thrawl tucked the box under his arm and left the hut, his dragon trotting along beside him. What he saw outside surprised him. An elf stood in a long brown cloak, waiting to meet him. But not just any elf.

"It is good to see you again, Thrawl," Raela said with a short bow.

"You?" he asked incredulously. "You are my guide?"

She nodded. "Yes, Thrawl. I am the elves ambassador to the Urgals. I came early so that I might take part in your games and learn more about your culture." She smiled, amused at his reaction. "Does that not make sense?"

"No, it makes sense," he admitted. "I only thought . . . it is fitting."

"Yes," she agreed. "It is. I also wish to express my thanks for choosing me in the games. You allowed me to redeem myself and further win rank among your people."

Thrawl nodded. He thought now that his choice of Raela now had a deeper meaning, for the Herndall surely knew who she was even if he hadn't. Fate, it seemed, had come into play.

The dragon chirped excitedly at Raela but remained otherwise still, standing by Thrawl's side. Raela crouched down and studied the dragon, a smile on her face. She looked up at Thrawl. "May I?" she asked.

The nameless dragon too looked at Thrawl, and he felt the same question expressed wordlessly from its mind. The fact that an elf would have to ask permission from an Urgal to touch a dragon seemed very off to him. _It is because it is _my _dragon, _he realized. _I have a dragon._

He nodded. Raela stroked the dragon's thin neck with her right hand, cooing to it softly. The dragon nuzzled against her hand like a cat, purring softly. Raela chuckled and stood up straight. The dragon too straightened at Thrawl's side. "Well then, shall we be off?"

"Yes."

As they walked north out of New Stavarosk, the Urgal village of the games, Thrawl stopped and asked Raela "My village is further north, to the west of lake Flam. Can we stop by it on our way to your elven lands?"

Raela nodded. "I don't see why not. Your egg is the first to hatch, and I think we have time. The dwarves are just about to begin their ceremony, and that could take all of a month."

She led him to a stable just outside the village, where a single chestnut brown horse waited patiently. "This is Vinr. Her name means friend in my language, a language you will soon learn. I was going to rider if the egg hatched for a Kull. We can use her to carry any supplies you wish to take from your home."

And so Thrawl stored Kokora's staff case in Vinr's saddlebags and they began their walk toward Thrawl's home, a village called Kovarosk. Though it was a short distance the mountains impeded them and it took nearly half the day to maneuver out of them. They traveled a little while after until night fell. At the base of a brown and green mountain they made camp.

Thrawl dug a shallow fire pit and lined it with stones. Raela collected wood and set it aflame with a flint she carried. They sat side by side against a fallen log, staring into the moonlight. Thrawl saw a tarp and thin poles in Vinr's saddlebags, the makings of a tent, but Raela made no move to collect them.

The dragon nestled in between the pair, curled up in a tight circle. Thrawl felt the mental connection between them become faint as the dragon fell asleep. Raela had fed with scraps of dried meat throughout the day.

The silence between them was comfortable. Every now and then the howl of a wolf or the call of a bird pleasantly added to the ambiance of the night. "Raela," Thrawl finally asked, "Why did you light the fire with a flint instead of magic? Your people are well practiced in it, are you not?

Raela chuckled. "Yes, but yours are not. I learned early on in my time as ambassador that Urgals do not like it when those other than their shamans use magic around them without their permission. And I've yet to earn shaman rank among your people, though I think I shall have it within the next year."

"You want to be a shaman?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "But what could that title mean to you? Surely your teachers know more than mine."

"Perhaps," she admitted, "but it's a sign of respect to your people that I go through the process of achieving rank among them. Once I have my own set of robes I can walk easily among your villages and freely use magic. It's well worth it, I think, if I'm to continue my duties."

The idea that an elf would try so hard to fit in with Urgals was strange to Thrawl, but it brought a smile to his lips. "You have my permission to use magic." He felt odd saying that.

"Thank you."

Night quickly became day. The dragon sat itself in between Thrawl's horns as he and Raela moved on. They exchanged stories about each other's lives and Thrawl quickly found himself taking a liking to the elf. He learned she had the same birthday as Eragon Shadeslayer, leader of the Riders, and because of that felt her destiny was to be just as amazing.

Thrawl told her about his father, who was a Kull and Nar, and Urgal war chief. Often he was away but when not the family was happy indeed. He told her of how his growth was slow compared to other Urgals, who at times picked on him. Then he told her of the look of pride on his father's face when Thrawl managed to overtake not one but all of three boys in wrestling matches. "Strength," he said, "will not stop me from winning."

Early on in the day they stopped for a moment to hunt for food. Raela gathered an assortment of wild berries and nut in a basket. "Elves do not usually eat meat," she explained. "We like to not cause unnecessary death. I know your body is not used to such a diet, and the dragon's certainly isn't. So on this occasion, I shall hunt."

She tied Vinr to a tree and to his surprise used an Urgal sling to fell a nearby deer. Once cooked with magic, Thrawl ate much of it, but plenty was given to the dragon, who had grown quite a bit.

As they traveled she told him of his bond with the dragon. "It is a mental bond," she explained. "Soon you will share every aspect of your life with it. It is your responsibility then, to teach it all about the world."

Thrawl committed himself then to explaining every aspect of the world to the dragon, from where meat came from, to the sun and stars, to his village and its structure, to the games and beyond. As he did so Raela added her own knowledge, with Thrawl's permission. She taught the dragon, and through it, Thrawl, about elvish customs and traditions.

"Apart from your dragon, you will be able to communicate mentally with others. Your mind is your most precious possession. It is your link to your dragon, to magic, and to others." She stopped, bringing Vinr to a halt. They were in a forested area by the mountainside. "Here," she said. "Let me show you."

Thrawl felt a light touch on the border of his mind, and it wasn't the dragon. The touch carried a sweet scent and the sound of a song whose words he couldn't make out. "Is that you?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Good, now you can make out what another person's mind feels like, though other minds will feel different. Now what if I were to do _this_."

Thrawl felt the probe of Raela's mind press against his, as if trying to gain access. She quickly succeeded, for he had given no resistance. He felt her quickly leave his mind, shaking her head. "No no, you're supposed to try to stop me. Your mind is your greatest weapon. Here, let's try it again."

Raela made another attempt to enter his mind. This time Thrawl put up a barrier. It resisted her for a moment before she broke through it. She smiled. "A good first effort. But you want to try harder to keep someone out. You're limited only by the strength of your will and your creativity."

As they walked then Raela would make random attempts on his mind, and each time he failed, though he got better at defending himself. And so it was that Raela was Thrawl's first teacher.

The dragon perked up during these sessions, watching them like an eager spectator. Sometimes it even combined the force of its mind, though weak as it was, against Raela. The minor distraction hardly proved enough to stop her, though it opened Thrawl up to the possibilities.

When they next camped Thrawl learned that Raela didn't use her tent because she knew Urgals like to sleep in the open when traveling. As he laid down to sleep, the dragon nestled by his side, he thought about how interesting this elven woman was, who tried so hard to be an Urgal.

At noon the next day they arrived in Kovarosk. It was a village spread out along the northwestern edge of lake Flam. Some of the homes were made in caves in the surrounding mountains, but the rest were huts similar to those in other Urgal villages.

They found Thrawl's mother weaving in her home, sitting in a large chair. She was a stout Urgal woman, with long horns that curved up but never rounded. She had a kind face, Raela thought. "Thrawl," she said in the language of Urgals. "My little Thrawl." She set aside her weaving and embraced her son. "We have heard of your victories in the games! My little son, you bring so much pride to our family. Your father will be so proud to hear you have made history!"

Thrawl felt embarrassed to be hugged so by his mother in front of Raela, but he tried not to show it. "I have someone to introduce you to," he said, gesturing to Raela. "This is Raela. She helped me win the Dragon's Rush."

Thrawl's mother quickly embraced Raela as well, and said roughly "It is a pleasure," in the language of humans. Raela embraced her as well, and it surprised Thrawl how nothing seemed to throw her off.

"I am honored to meet the mother of our next Urgal Rider."

"Rider?" his mother asked as she pulled away. At that point she pulled away and looked down at Thrawl's side. The little bronze dragon stood and, when noticed, released a puff of smoke from its nostrils. "Yes, Rider!"

The dragon squawked in surprise as Thrawl's mother snatched the dragon into her arms and held it high. "You, little flametongue, are a blessing upon this family. All my thanks go to you for choosing my little Thrawl. If ever I had a second child, it would be you!"

The dragon neither shared her sentiment nor understood it as it struggled in protest. She let the dragon go and it leaped back to its perch on Thrawl's head, eying his mother cautiously.

From home he collected few supplies. Trousers he sometimes wore. His sling. As he gathered his assorted items he realized how few possessions he actually had. It never troubled him before but now that he was leaving home behind, it somehow seemed important.

He gathered his belongings in a leather sack, hugged his mother goodbye, and stepped outside the hut. He looked back and a sense of dark foreboding nearly overtook him. It felt as if this were the last time he'd ever be set foot in the hut again. The thought made him shiver.

"Are we done?" Raela asked cheerfully.

Thrawl shook his head. "One more stop. One more person I need to see."

"Are we going to see the dam you've won so much glory for?" she asked as Thrawl led her across the village. Thrawl nodded. "Good. I've wanted to see the Urgal woman who could inspire so much in you."

The dragon understood where they were going through its connection with Thrawl, and it stood up on his shoulders, arms wrapped around one of his horns. It had seen images and felt sensations through Thrawl's thoughts, but it was eager to see the lady in person.

They arrived at a hut by the base of a mountain. A young Urgal couple met him outside. Opposite to his parents, the dam was a Kull and the ram was a common Urgal. Thrawl introduced them to Raela and the dragon in short order. They congratulated him on his victory in the games and his new status as a Rider.

"She is in the back," the dam explained. "She'll be excited to see you before you go."

Thrawl nodded and led Raela through the hut to a small separate room in the back. The room was lit only by a small window, giving it a gray appearance. The room contained a single rocking chair facing the window. On that chair sat a female Urgal.

To Raela, she didn't seem particularly beautiful. Not homely or plain, she thought, but certainly not the most beautiful Urgal she'd ever seen. She had long brown hair that came to her waist. Her horns were longer than Thrawl's, but not by too much. She wore a robe similar to that of the Herndall, but of dark brown instead of gray.

"Who is there?" she asked, turning in her chair before noticing the party. "Thrawl!"

He smiled. "Zora."

Raela had seen the look of Thrawl's face before. Sometimes elves, especially the elder of her race, would gather together to watch the sunrise. Before it happened they would place themselves in a state of inner peace, opening their minds to the beauty of nature, of the world. They weren't always successful, but when they were their hearts pounded away with the sheer joy of living. And when the sunrise came the sight of it brought many of them to tears.

This was the look she saw on Thrawl's face now. The young Urgal walked to meet her. She too stood and walked to meet him. And that's when Raela noticed it. The female Urgal stepped forward, but her foot came down at an odd angle, facing inward too much. When she brought her other foot forward, her hip reacted oddly and this foot, too, came down at the same odd angle, facing in. She walked with a limp.

Raela kept her face composed as the two Urgals embraced, but her mind raced. She stood quietly in the corner as Thrawl and Zora talked for an hour. He told her of his success in the games, introduced Raela and the dragon, and shared with her his insecurities about being chosen. Zora waved them away.

"No Thrawl," Zora began. "I have always believed you had a powerful and important destiny. You were always meant for greatness. You are . . ." she looked around the room sadly. "You are bigger than this place, Thrawl. Bigger than Kovarosk, bigger even than the race of Urgralga."

And as she spoke Raela thought she knew what Zora thought. _Bigger even than her._

Thrawl looked out the window and for a moment there was silence. Then he spoke. And he told a story that, from the look on Zora's face, she had enjoyed hearing many times before. He told her the story of a fictional Urgal character, by the name of Volsung. Volsung had fallen in love at a young age with the most beautiful dam in the world. He knew he could never have her as it was, for he had achieved nothing and she deserved everything. Volsung then sought to win her every last bit of glory he could.

Volsung traveled far and wide all across the world. He became an Urgal chief and won many battles against rival tribes and even against humans. One day, Volsung fought a hard and bitter battle against a human army that tried to take his home village. He succeeded, but was captured. Somehow he convinced the humans not kill him and instead allowed him to be their slave. His hard work impressed them, as did his intelligence. He quickly earned his freedom and a place as an army officer.

Thus Volsung continued to earn glory, as even race was not a boundary. He forged a temporary and uneasy peace between humans and Urgals, ensuring the safety of the dam he loved. This, still, was not enough.

Volsung climbed the tallest mountain and fell on his knees in prayer to the honored mother, the Goddess Rahna, she of the gilded horns. He asked her to give him an opportunity to win more glory than anyone ever had before, so he could bestow all of it upon the dam he loved. Rahna answered his prayer.

A month later a great evil besieged the land of Urgals and Humans. The great black dragon, Fafnir, had finally woken from its great slumber. It was this dragon that had chased Rahna during the creation of the world, and who had fallen at the Beor Mountains into a deep sleep. Fafnir awoke and was intent on destroying all of Rahna's beautiful creation. Vile creatures spewed from Fafnir's mouth, including such demons as the Ra'zac and other abominations. He sent them to murder rams and dams, men and women alike in their sleep and on the battlefield.

Rahna felt each loss deep within her heart and needed it to end. She called upon Volsung to raise an army of men and Urgals to destroy the dragon. And though Volsung raised the biggest army in history to date, and though the army fought hard and won many battles, Fafnir continued to spew more beasts from his mouth. Volsung knew the creature had to be slain if there was any chance of victory.

During the final battle Rahna put together the elements of wind and fire together with earth and created a creature faster than any horse, more powerful than any other beast, a dragon like Fafnir himself but different, for it was a beautiful golden color and female. This dragon, Jura, allowed Volsung onto her back and together they flew at the great beast Fafnir, who was many times bigger and stronger.

And yet they fought for days in the sky, even as the army of men, Urgals, and demons fought below. Through a complex maneuver, Jura flew through the Beor mountains and impaled Fafnir through one of the highest peaks. The dragon breathed a torrent of flame but refused to die. Rahna then made Volsung a special spear of golden light,and with this he brought Fafnir to his final end, impaling him through the heart.

There was much celebration afterwards among the men and Urgals. When it came time, Volsung decided to finally choose a mate. And as the hero of two races, he chose the most beautiful one of them all, the same dam he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. Rahna made a home for them in the sky, and they flew there on Jura's back, to live happily as celestial beings forevermore.

"And do you know what the name of that dam was?" Thrawl asked.

"Zora," she giggled. "Her name was Zora, as is mine. You always tell the story so well, Thrawl."

"And one day," he continued, "just like Volsung, an Urgal will win all the glory there is to be had, and will bestow it upon you. And you will have the happiness you have earned."

They embraced once more, and as they left Raela noticed tears forming in Zora's eyes, as well as Thrawls.

She cleared her throat as they left the hut and walked toward the edge of the village. "That was a beautiful story. I've never heard it told so well."

Thrawl nodded. "I tell it with passion. And I make it my own. One day, I will win all the glory there is to be had. And I will choose Zora as my brood-mate. Then she will never doubt herself again. I thought that I had succeeded in the games, but that is false. I must become a Rider if I am to earn the right to be with her."

And as they walked away from the little village and up the edge of the spine, Raela thought she saw a look of renewed determination in Thrawl's eyes.

**Author's Notes:**

**Wow, that was MUCH longer than I thought it would be. I don't think I'll have a chapter that long for quite a while. I definitely enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll tell me what you think. Your reviews make me very happy.**

**I've got a lot of ideas for how I want this story to go, and I hope you enjoy the ride. I'm not sure how long this will end up being but I promise it'll be as long as it need to be.**

**RXR**

**-Crossingxsky**


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